


Running After Rabbits

by Blucifer



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Blood, Dream Sex, Felix is a very good very repressed boy, Kissed By The Rabbit God AU, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn With Plot, Questioning Reality, Scars, Seungmin is a god, Silk - Freeform, Supernatural Elements, Switching, laundromat sex, so much silk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:54:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23059585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blucifer/pseuds/Blucifer
Summary: Felix laid upon the red silk alter as an offering to Seungmin, the rabbit god of forbidden love. Felix worshiped at that alter, and his soul was granted peace because of it.Now It's Seungmin's turn.Felix hands Seungmin the spare key over the counter. Attached to that thin silver key is the lucky red rabbit’s foot that Hyunjin gave him. It’s an icon of Felix, the god of the mundane. Because just like himself, Seungmin is looking for answers in a world that doesn’t seem to have them.
Relationships: Kim Seungmin/Lee Felix
Comments: 23
Kudos: 146





	Running After Rabbits

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the short film "Kissed By the Rabbit God" please watch it is so good. My friend Emme recc'd it to me and it was great. https://vimeo.com/344981433

“Felix,” Hyunjin proudly walks into the middle of the empty dining room, outstretches his arms, bends them at the elbow, and exposes his palms to the ceiling. The first few buttons of his pink and canary yellow silk shirt are undone, revealing milky white skin and sharp clavicle bones. “I’ve done it. I have done it. I’ve reached a higher plane.” 

“Uh,” Felix emerges from the back of the house. In his hand is Hyunjin’s pink and blue faded tupperware container. It’s filled to the brim with glass noodles and stir fried vegetables. Felix wouldn’t ask the cook to fire an order at ten forty in the morning for just  _ anyone,  _ but Hyunjin is kind of special. Hyunjin was one of the first friends he made when he moved here. So he’ll make sure he has food to go before his 11:05 class. Felix places the container on top of the glass top table. A seafoam green tablecloth is wedged between the top and the glass. “That’s absolutely terrifying.” 

Hyunjin’s always been  _ looking  _ for something. It just so happens that Felix has always had it. There is the scapular in the bottom of his book bag, and the cross around his neck. His faith is quite strong. 

Hyunjin however, has bounced around, from Christianity to Buddhism, to picking up whatever tidbits of new aged spiritualism he picks up in overheard conversations and popular culture. Hyunjin seems to believe that this is something that connects him and Felix. He sees them as two men looking for lighter souls and enlightened minds. 

Felix only sees the light catch in the translucent red beads of his rosary, cheap, handmade, he purchased it at an open air market on a mission trip. The beads slip through his fingers whenever he prays for Hyunjin. Apparently it’s really hard to get out of a cult, and Hyunjins parents are old school Unificationists. Got married in a mass wedding all the way back in 95. 

“Like, I’m pretty sure the last time I heard you say that, you almost joined a cult.” 

Hyunjin waves his elegant long fingers dismissively. “I was born into one.” 

“ _ Another cult.  _ Please don’t tell me you went back to the Scientology center.” Oh damn. That’s like two cults that have almost got him. 

“No, but I did some reading.” 

“Yeah, I know. I saw you with that big boring copy of Dianetics--” 

“No, I mean about something better,” Hyunjin insists. The tupperware gets shoved into his shoulder bag. Displaced books and his tablet are spilled out on the table onto the seafoam and glass. Shoving the items back inside, he holds his calculator underneath his armpit, and a pen in between his teeth. Muffled, he explains, “there’s this Chinese proverb about a soldier who falls for his commanding officer. They’re both men.”

“I gathered.” Distracted, he finds his gaze traveling to the register. The fish in the aquarium need to be fed, the melon flavored candies in a dish on the counter need to be replenished. There’s a thousand or more things he needs to do in the next half hour. 

“You should pay attention Felix, it’s interesting. Anyway, he is caught watching the officer bathe. You know naked. For this egregious sin he’s killed immediately, but the gods are forgiving. After all, this is a crime of love. He’s reincarnated as the rabbit god. The saint of forbidden love.” 

“That’s actually kind of a cool story.” It’s way, way better than when Hyunjin started talking about his “reactive mind.”  __

“So that’s what I believe in now.” 

“That’s just a folktale.” Felix’s palms itch. He cannot be idle. From the servers’ station he pulls a handful of made up packets. Paper napkins wrapped in such a way that they hold a metal spoon and a pair of disposable chopsticks. He starts distributing them across the tables. “That’s not enough to be a real religion right?” Felix only recognizes the irony in that statement after it’s left his mouth. 

“Uh Felix, do I have news for you,” Hyunjin somehow smiles brighter now, wider now in amusement at his own wit. “There’s a shrine in Taiwan somewhere. That’s real enough for me. So, I got us trinkets for our newfound conversion”

“What?” 

Hyunjin’s hand disappears into the pocket of his well fitting slacks, and he extracts it just as quickly. Hanging from his long, spindly, fingers are two dulled brass colored chains. From those chains hang twin tufts of cherry red fur. “Rabbit’s feet.” Hyunjin offers one to Felix. “You know. For luck.” 

Felix grimaces. He doesn’t even like picking up orders at the fish market on the off chance he’ll see something get butchered right in front of him. “Is it like, really a rabbit?” Felix takes it between his thumb and forefinger with a disgusted look upon his face. 

“I don’t think so,” Hyunjin says just to fill the space between them. “Besides, mine’s working perfectly. I got…” He raises his eyebrows for effect. “Lucky last night.” 

“That was gonna happen anyway.” Felix insists. He and Jisung have been eyefucking for months now. It was only a matter of time. 

“Not without incident! The real test will be tonight. We’re seeing each other again. It turns out he’s really into--” 

“Isn’t it time for you to go to class?” Felix loves his friend, and he’s happy for them. Really, truly. But he could go his whole life without hearing about them have sex…  _ With each other.  _

“Hold onto this, let me know how it works.” Hyunjin empties the dish of melon candy on the counter on his way out the door.

* * *

He usually only waits and buses tables when he’s on shift. Well, occasionally he’ll ring people up at the counter. Sometimes they’re down a dishwasher, because it's really hard to keep a dishwasher for longer than a few months at a time, and he’ll help out there. Oh yeah,sometimes if they’re swamped with deliveries, he’ll take stuff out. Mostly just to nearby office complexes. That is to say, he usually doesn’t do  _ anything  _ on the prep counter, but some lady wearing red bottomed heels wanted lemon with her tea. So he’ll slice up a lemon real quick no problem. 

Okay, so Felix basically does a little of everything. Hell, he could run this place...But his boss is good at what she does so there’s really no need to usurp. 

_ Fuck.  _

Lost in his own thoughts, Felix cuts the tip of his finger. Pain radiates from the wound, and bright red blood splatters against his pale skin. 

Grabbing a cloth napkin, he gets the hell out of the prep area and back out to the front of the house where he feels much safer. 

He’s headed towards the counter where he knows there’s a first aid kit, but of course in the chaos of lunch rush, he gets distracted. The cook tells him to run an order of beef and seaweed soup to table five, so he does. 

When he emerges from the kitchen, dark with steam and grease smoke, the light of the front of the house is blinding. 

That’s when Felix sees him. The endless shuffle of waitresses and customers is parted, ever so briefly. Sitting at table five is a boy who demands his attention with the intensity of his gaze alone. 

As if he watches the door to the kitchen intently, not for his soup, but for Felix specifically. 

His hair is cherry red in the kind of way that only dolls or shiny idols on television can have red hair. The collar of his red leather bomber jacket is lined with equally dyed red fur. Felix very much wants to sink his fingers into it. 

Felix approaches the table, pushing the food cart with one hand, and concealing his wound and the rapidly soaked through napkin.  _ Oh god that’s like, a thousand healthcode violations.  _

His smile is kind, warm, uncomfortably so and far worse than the heat of the kitchen. 

“Can I get anything else for you?” Felix asks as he places the soup before the boy. 

“Yeah,” soft fingers catch against the exposed skin of his forearm. He’s not  _ supposed  _ to have the shirtsleeves of his uniform pushed up, but it’s so damn hot in the kitchen. Long fingers that remind him of Hyunjin’s, but are somehow  _ more  _ adroit and purposeful, turn his wrist upward. This exposes the underside of his forearm to the world. His clenched tight fist is worked open, and the nasty, bloodied napkin is taken away by the stranger. 

“Let me,” A red silk handkerchief is worried into his hand quickly covering the wound. “This looks quite deep.” 

Felix can hear his own heart pound in the shell of his ears. He must  _ look  _ as red as this boy’s hair, or jacket, or handkerchief. Because no one has touched him like that so  _ intimately  _ so  _ quickly _ , and oh god his hands are  _ still  _ on that soft satiny flesh on the inside of his arm. “Oh-’ His voice stutters. “Okay.” 

But he makes no attempt to move. His feet feel bolted to the floor. He doesn’t want to leave, but he doesn’t know what to say. 

“What’s your name?” 

It feels like his head is being held underneath the water. He hasn’t flubbed Korean this badly since he moved here, “Felix --who--you are you?” 

“I’m Seungmin.” 

There’s another long, agonized pause. Seungmin, without warning or preamble shifts his hand in his grasp. Still covered by crimson red cloth, he raises his hand to his mouth. Through that thin silken cloth he can feel the heat of Seungmin’s skin and breath. He can feel the fullness, and the plushness of his lips. Dulled is the sensation, but he wants to experience that softness of skin against skin. Dulled is the sensation, and for that he is grateful, because he might combust if there wasn’t a barrier between. 

Then, just as suddenly as he was graced with it, Seungmin’s faint touch is gone. In its absence, Seungmin feels something like relief. Relief, as if that brush gentle touch was a stifling pressure, and he only just realized it now. 

“Please take care of yourself. I’d hate for anything to happen to you.” 

“Yeah.” All the sounds in the restaurant sound out of order now, as if someone has messed with the equalizer of his mind. The short order cook is absolutely yelling, “ _ order up,”  _ out the window in an attempt to gain his  _ long  _ displaced attention. His booming voice sounds so far away. Seungmin sits right in front of him, but his voice sounds muted. But the thunderous sound of his heart pounds at his ear and demands entry to his brain as does the sound of an ancient trot song on the radio. The singer croons of love, and devotion. 

Felix pulls his hand back in almost slow motion. The cut is healed completely, just a faint, fresh pink scar to remind him that it was real. 

What the hell? 

Pulled back into reality, he stammers, “Enjoy your meal Seungmin!” 

Then he goes back to work. What else would he do? 

* * *

Felix doesn’t mind being here until close. Really. Honestly. It means that the owner can go home at a decent hour and help her kids with their homework. It means that she can have a few brief moments with her husband before he goes into his third shift job as an EMT. 

It means that he gets  _ great  _ views such as the one before him. Looking out the back door of the restaurant, he can see the Shell gas station across the vacant lot. Blinding white lights illuminate the pump bay and fade out into a gradient blackness of the inky white sky. Somewhere in between, are the bright lights that spell out the word “Shell”. Except the S is burned out, and all that’s left is  _ “hell”.  _

Usually, he can see people in the distance pumping gas. He’ll cross paths with one or more of the people that work at the noodle bar going through the same closing tasks that he has to go through or sneaking a smoke. Tonight the alleyway is empty, without so much as even the breeze to keep him company. 

Feeling lonely isn’t going to get him anywhere, so he focuses on getting everything done faster so that he can go home. 

“Excuse me?” 

Felix barely hears him over the sound of his music. But he’s never been happier to hook his finger into the stem of his airpod and extract it from his ear. “Hm?” 

_ Oh.  _ His heart drops into his chest when he turns on his heel and sees who’s turned after him. For a few hours-long seconds, Felix can only stare at him. It’s Seungmin. Crooked in his finger is his key ring. Resting against the flat of his palm is the dyed red rabbit’s foot keychain. 

“What are you doing here?”

“You dropped your keys.” 

“That doesn’t explain what you’re doing here.” Indignation tinges his voice, and it hurts because he’s never meant anything less. Because it scares him so much, how happy he is to see him again. 

Seungmin closes the distance between him slowly, a confident swagger colors each and every step. “You know that for a rabbit’s foot to really be lucky it has to be taken from the left hind foot? He has to get caught in a cemetery? On a Friday? Otherwise, it isn’t lucky at all.” His expression curls into an impish smile, and then, like a bubbling soap bubble that bursts with oily rainbow colors, his unwavering gaze falters. He looks upwards to the light pollution filled sky where the stars should be. “Do I need a reason? I wanted to see you again.” 

It’s magnetic, the way that his fear fades away when Seungmin gets a certain degree of closer to him, the way that he pulls into him just the way that Seungmin pulls into him. Felix reaches upward, and buries his fingers in that crimson red collar. It’s just as soft as it looks. Seungmin’s smirk is all that he can see for agonizing, slow seconds. 

But Felix knows that that apprehension is one sided when Seungmin’s mouth crashes into his own. His lips are just as soft as the fur threaded between his fingers, but the kiss is harsh and demanding. With his fingers threaded through Felix’s hair, he tugs backwards demanding more access right away.

Seungmin’s tongue slides against the crease of his lips, as if he were asking permission, cursory permission, but permission nonetheless before plunging inside. 

A far cry from the kisses he traded behind cabins at church camp, he’s never been kissed like this before. He wants to tell Seungmin this. He tries to tell Seungmin this in the soft whimper sighs that he confesses. Maybe he already knows, and that’s why Seungmin kisses him like this. Each swipe of his tongue is a response. First in gentle whispers of comfort and then louder, more indignant. He knows and it doesn’t matter because he’s kissing Felix like this now.  __

And just when he feels like he’s drowning, Seungmin lets him up for air. 

Seungmin wears such a pleased expression. 

Surrounding Seungmin is a halo of reality in red and yellow neon. The best kiss of his life is happening in the back door of the restaurant, in the light of a seedy gas station, and steps away from the dumpster. 

But it’s not like the kitchen is anymore glamorous. Red leather and fur might just stick to the green gray, grease stained tile walls. So the very best option is just to dive right back into the fantasy. He pulls down on Seungmin’s plush red lapels and demands another kiss. This time he brings the intensity, he brings the demands. Graceless, almost childish, he catches Seungmin’s lower lip between his teeth, just because he wants to know. Can he knock loose the tight lined perfection that Seungmin brings? 

Seungmin responds with a stifled whimper into his mouth. But vulnerability doesn’t come without a price. 

Seungmin seems to take his new found confidence as a dare. Untucking his uniform shirt, greedily, he seeks bare skin at his flanks and the small of his back. 

Seungmin breaks the kiss, but keeps his fingers tangled in Felix’s hair and neck bared. Soft lips contrast with the feeling of sharp teeth against his neck. 

It feels like everything Felix has always wanted. 

Looking upward, he sees stars in the clear night’s sky that weren’t there before. He has to wonder if Seungmin put them there. 

It feels like everything Felix has ever been afraid of. 

Tightness wells in his chest. Panic settles into his gut. His tight grip on Seungmin’s fur collar flattens, and he uses it as leverage to push Seungmin away. 

Seungmin doesn’t question why, but he speaks volumes to Felix nevertheless. 

“I’m sorry...I shouldn’t,” but the inflection in his voice speaks more than his words. Upward and questioning, he doesn’t have a  _ good  _ reason. 

“Right.” Seungmin clicks his tongue at him in disappointment. 

The sensation of soft red fur envelops his palm. Seungmin pushes his keys into his hand. “I’ll go then.” 

And he does after smoothing the lapels upon his jacket and brushing back his perfect coif with his fingers. “Let me know if you change your mind,” he calls over his shoulder. 

Walking down the alleyway, Seungmin disappears into darkness. 

* * *

What’s cooler than pulling an all nighter to study? Pulling an all nighter to study...while doing  _ chores.  _

Chan told him not to sign up for a class that met on Monday, Wednesday, Friday at 8:00 AM. At the time, he woke up every morning at 6:00 to get to school by 7:30. What happened over the summer, and eight short weeks into the semester, to make 8:00 feel like torture? 

Why can’t 8:00 happen a little later, 9:30, 10:00, 10:30? He deserves it, between picking up an extra shift at the restaurant and then picking up a very drunk Minho and Jisung from a bar earlier in the night. At any rate, he’s made his bed, so he’s gonna lie in it...In ten hours when this exam is finished. 

For now, it’s just him, his iced vanilla soy latte (with an extra shot), his textbooks, and three weeks worth of laundry posted up in this 24 hour laundromat. 

Felix walks down the long row of alternating red and white washing machines until he reaches  _ his  _ machines at the end of the row.  _ His  _ because he uses them every time, unless someone else has gotten to them first...and then he just feels pissy. His feet cross scuffed, black and white checked tile as he goes, thick sneaker soles squeaking against the floor, and only the  _ roll-clack-clack  _ sound of the laundry cart he drags lazily behind him with one hand. 

It’s right across from a table surrounded by stools bolted into the floor with circular red seats. And across from that, pushed against the wall, is an old school pinball machine. A seductive, robot woman is painted down the side of the cabinet, and a stagnated set of lights in red cascade up and down the features of the inside of the machine: hearts, gears, and concentric circles. 

If he watches the score screen closely as it oscillates through the message  _ 2 credits to play  _ he’ll see a certain CB97 nested among the high scores. It almost feels weird being here and doing his laundry without Chan. 

But Chan’s past Friday morning exams. He’s mastered the art of the Tuesday Thursday schedule, and is very, very content with date night with Changbin. 

Felix stuffs the last of his underwear and t-shirts from the basket into the drum of the washing machine. 

When he drops the lid to the washing machine, Seungmin appears before him. 

Peeling an oversized, almost flowing red crew neck by the nape of his neck and up over the shoulders, he stands before Felix wearing only a smile and a pair of stylish black joggers. He crams the expensive looking sweater into the washing machine. 

Toned pale skin is interrupted by red scars too intricate to be the result of an accident. Purposeful. Just like Seungmin, and every move that he makes. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey.” Seungmin’s effect on him is immediate and visceral: tight chest, slick palms, and the overwhelming urge to bolt while his feet feel cemented to the floor. 

“Can I use some detergent? I forgot mine.” 

Felix hands him the nearly empty bottle. Dried blue detergent is stained down the front of the bottle from careless pours. But when Seungmin pours the soap into the washing machine, it comes out bright red. Like the color of blood. 

“Don’t you want wash that?” Seungmin says gesturing to Felix’s hoodie. “It looks nice on you. It would be a shame if you had to wait another week to wear it just because it was dirty.” 

The sound of running water commingles with the sound of his own heart beating in the shell of his ear. The laundromat air tastes of bleach, and the air is damp and thick with the chemical scent of drier sheets, but it doesn’t stop him from breathing through his mouth. Felix swallows thickly. 

Seungmin makes a very good point. 

Without thinking about it twice, he grabs the shirt in the same way Seungmin did, pulling it up over his head by the nape of the neck. The shirt he was wearing undearneath gets rucked up over his head too. The little gold cross that his mother gave him as a graduation gift right before he left for Seoul bounces against his chest. The metal is cold. 

Both garments, the shirt and the hoodie, are cast into the washing machine. 

“I knew it,” Seungmin says with a knowing smile. Felix’s cheek fits so perfectly into the palm of Seungmn’s hands. Fingertips brush against his dappled cheekbones. There’s a follow up question there that hangs between them, but he cannot bring himself to ask. 

Felix thought that maybe his own pent up energy built and compounded over the past few days. A kiss out by the dumpster was the final grain of sand tipped the scale on years and years of repression and tension. And maybe, because of that, he only  _ imagined  _ how urgently Seungmin kissed him. 

Because the very thought that it was unequal was almost too much to bear. 

Even though his whole body teems with pressure right now, he’s filled with a sense of relief. 

Because he didn’t just imagine it. 

Seungmin thirsts for him like the desert craves rain. Seungmin hurts for him the way that the runner aches from the distance. Seungmin kisses him with the same hunger  _ now  _ that he did the other night, even if Felix left him in that strange liminal space between rejection and blind acceptance. 

Searing hot skin connects against skin. Melting together upon contact, it’s almost painful to pull apart. 

But the kiss breaks, and Felix has to know. “Knew what?” 

Seungmin pulls back. His eyes rake down his body and it makes Felix burn just as much now as it did moments ago when he stripped. “Your freckles. They’re not just on your face.” Seungmin punctuates this observation with a series of playful kisses on his more prominent birthmarks. The large but faint one on his jaw bone and the smaller but darker one just below his collar bone. “So now I have to wonder, if they’re not just on your chest. If they’re somewhere else.” 

Felix told himself that if he saw him again, things would be different. And after blowing it like that with the most gorgeous person he’s ever seen, he really didn’t think that he’d have a second chance. Thought that he’d never have to follow through. 

His fingers glide against the silken smooth skin of Seungmin’s bare arms. With the coat peeled away, it’s surprising to see the faint definition of muscles, but he likes it. He likes it a lot. His voice cracks when he speaks, but he says it anyway. “You’ll have to find out right?” 

Seungmin’s love biting his way up his neck, and smiles into the shell of his ear when he finally responds. “Ri-ight.” 

Seungmin wraps his arms around his middle, and Felix uses the closeness to do the same to him. Stands on the tips of his toes, and latches on to the juncture of Seungmin’s neck. Felix has no idea how it  _ feels  _ for Seungmin, but to him it  _ seems  _ so different from the demanding want that Seungmin enacts on his body. Feels more playful. But one thing he knows for sure. One thing makes him feel better. Both are boyish, coquettish, and petulant. 

As if he weighs nothing at all, Seungmin lifts him up. 

“What are you--” 

But Felix is interrupted by another playful kiss that wordlessly asks him to just  _ go with it.  _

His knees hit the back of the washing machine, and Seungmin settles between his legs. At that exact moment, the sound of running water  _ stops,  _ and the washing machine makes a  _ thunk  _ as the wash cycle begins. 

A pleasant vibration pulses beneath him. With one hand, he braces himself against cool metal. With the other, he threads his fingers into Seungmin’s hair. 

He wants this. He wants this so badly. 

Seungmin palms his aching cock through his sweats and it almost hurts more than neglect. There’s nothing between them save for the bodily sounds of their mouths smacking together, and the vulnerable, broken little sounds that he whimpers into Seungmin’s mouth. It should be easy to let go, surrender, let Seungmin give him what he wants, but something in his brain short circuits and not in a good way. 

Like it suddenly just dawned on him that they’re half naked in a  _ very  _ public place. 

Almost having sex in a  _ very  _ public place. 

It’s not just  _ what if they get caught.  _ It’s what if his friends walk in? Which he realizes is stupid because they wouldn’t think poorly of him. What if his mom walks in? Which he realizes is  _ also  _ stupid because she’s an ocean away in Australia. 

“Felix, what’s wrong?” Genuine hurt seems to tinge Seungmin’s voice now. 

“I don’t know.” But he pulls back from Seungmin nonetheless. Retreating from ember warm skin, the cold metal washing machine presses against his skin. 

“You gotta boyfriend?” Seungmin asks teasingly like he already knows that the answer is no. 

“Uh-uh.” 

“Why not?” Seungmin doesn’t demand another kiss, doesn’t paw at his body, but if he did, Felix would probably abandon his apprehension once more for passion. But his touch doesn’t leave Felix, at least not completely. With the tips of his fingers he traces searing, branding patterns into his chest and his forearms and his shoulders. Those touches are secret messages and unseen sigils that only Seungmin can decode. “I mean,  _ I  _ think you’re something special.” 

Felix doesn’t even have the time to feel embarrassed by  _ that  _ particular line of questioning, because Seungmin fires another at him right away. 

“Is it because of this maybe?” His fingers trace the glimmering gold cross pendant around his neck. 

“No!” Felix supplies a bit too quickly. 

“Then what’s the matter?” 

Felix mimics Seungmin’s touch tracing the intricate red scars across his body. He feels so powerless right now. A different kind of powerless from the way that Seungmin makes him feel. 

He can’t even offer Seungmin the most pitiful responses like a half hearted  _ I don’t know  _ or a blatant lie like  _ nothing.  _ His throat feels cracked and dry, and the words...the words just never come. 

* * *

Felix wakes up to the tinny sound of a rap song that charted when he was in middle school pumped through someone’s cell phone. Waking with a panicked rush, his sweat dampened face sticks to the pages of his books. In the chaos, he knocks over what’s left of his iced coffee, melted ice diluting the last sip of coffee. The lid is knocked off and ice cubes go flying on to the floor. 

What the--? No. No. No. No. He was just with  _ Seungmin.  _ He was making things right with  _ Seungmin.  _

“Hey man, I think your shit’s done,” says the stranger who walked into the laundromat, throwback blaring. 

So he dreamed all of that. Right? 

But there’s an ache at the juncture of his neck that he’s desperate to confront, and a throb between his legs that he’s just as desperate to ignore. Felix picks up his phone from the floor, and wipes the water off on his pants. Unlocking the screen he pulls up his front facing camera. 

Sure enough there’s a deep purple mark worried there that wasn’t before. 

_ Fuck. _

* * *

Felix doesn’t typically handle deliveries, but it’s the end of his shift, and their usual courier Jaejoon is eager to clock out and hit one of the many bars that dot the street nearby the restaurant. Felix doesn’t mind. The address scrawled on the receipt is just a block or so away from his own cramped studio. 

And even though he  _ knows  _ his phone is about to blow up with messages from Chan and Changbin practically begging him to third wheel out at the clubs, he’s got to at least go home and wash off muddled scent of fat and spices that permeates the restaurant first. 

So he loops the plastic bag, filled to the brim with a double order of blackbean noodles and kimchi pancakes, around his wrists and sets off. 

The moon hangs eerily low in the sky like half-empty threat. It won’t come crashing down upon the earth, but it wants them all to know that it could happen, and they’d never make it out if it did. Glowing eerily red in the clear night’s sky that empty threat, and its gravitational pull drags Felix forward. 

Approaching a large, monolithic building, he realizes that there’s no phone number on the order. There’s no intercom system to buzz the customer. So….it looks like he’s gonna have to go all the way up...Felix checks the address written on the receipt  _ 558 _ , five flights of steps.

Fantastic. 

He better get five thousand won for his effort. 

Yeah right. 

Felix begins the long ascent up the cavernously dark staircase. Red light, like unease into his chest, seeps in from unseen cracks in the wall. 

He emerges from the stairwell back into reality. His sneakers shuffle against gray indoor-outdoor carpeting that’s well worn and stained. Hallway lights flicker off and on, lighting up family nameplates. When he reaches  _ that  _ door, there’s a note, thick red ink penned on thick embossed stationary,  _ please come inside.  _

Perhaps to his own demise, Felix does as the note says. 

The inside of the apartment is that strange combination of immaculate-grunge that only happens when fastidiously tidy people live in spaces tainted by the kind of grime builds with time and neglect. The kind that lingers in the older buildings in less fashionable parts of town. Everything has its place, the spices on the rack of the wall are alphabetized and all face the same direction, there’s not a dish in the sink, not a speck of dust on the stove hood. The tile floors are scrubbed clean, but that does nothing to hide the fact that they’re yellowed with nicotine, or that water stains drip down the painted walls. 

Felix should just put the food on the counter. 

Instead, he’s drawn further into the apartment towards a door that’s slightly ajar. 

“Hello?” He calls out foolishly. Oh god, if this were a horror movie, he’d be the first to go. “Delivery.” 

“In the bedroom,” a muffled voice calls.

That still doesn’t stop him. 

And that’s because he doesn’t feel a single pulse of fear now. In fact, whatever he might have felt dissipates with each soft note that escapes through the crack in the door. A voice joins those notes, and it’s more felt than heard the soft round words that are sung through those paper thin apartment walls. 

Felix watches in slow motion as his own hand, allegedly under his own volition, but he’s not so certain, splays across the peeling paint of the wooden door and pushes it open. 

He should expect grubby carpet, and a bare mattress upon the floor. 

But it isn’t surprising, no in fact it makes a great deal of sense, when he opens the door only to be transported to an ethereal world of crimson red. Garish red fur carpets the floor. The walls are lined with carved lacquer bookshelves. The color and tone of each bound leather tome is identical burgundy. A large, luxurious bed dripped in red satin sits in the center of the room. And in the center of that bed sits Seungmin. His long and luxurious form drips in decadent loose fitting red silk.

The harshness of that blood red tone makes his eyes sting, but he dare not look away. Not when Seungmin looks so divine. Seated in the center of the bed with cross legs, he holds a small wooden box instrument in his hand. Polished golden prongs of metal stick out from the box, and as his fingers flick each prong, a beautiful bell like sound emits from the box. 

Books are sprawled out around him upon the bed, alongside an open discarded notebook and fountain pen. 

The words that he sings have no discernable language, and yet they make Felix feel comforted. 

Seungmin finishes the song, and lets the instrument rest in his lap. With a soft pleased expression, he looks up at Felix. “You’re here.” 

“Am I?” Felix asks. He’s ready now. At least, he thinks that he’s ready now. Although a part of his mind knows that he’ll be so disappointed if he wakes up on Changbin and Chan’s sofa, passed out after one glass of wine. “How do I know this isn’t a dream?” 

“Can I tell you a story? I was reading something really interesting today.” Seungmin selects one of the many books from the bed. Felix can see that the gold embossed title is written in Chinese characters. 

“You know Chinese?” 

“Yeah,” Seungmin casts his eyes downward in a rare moment of shyness. “Korean, Japanese, English, French, Arabic,” But he speaks faster as he talks as if he’s proud of his wealth of knowledge. “My friend once brought me a cuneiform slab just to see if I could read it. It was so boring, talking about trade routes.” 

“Right.” Okay, so he’s definitely dreaming right now. Cool. He’d like to be wearing something sexier than his work uniform right now. Shouldn’t he be able to draw that up from thin air? 

Hyunjin went through a phase where he was really into lucid dreaming, and so he learned a lot about it. 

But nothing happens. 

“So the story that I read. It reminded me of you. There was an emperor who fell in love with a younger boy. One morning, upon waking the emperor noticed that his lover had fallen asleep on the sleeve of his long robe. Instead of waking him to attend to the court, he cut the sleeve of his robe off.” 

Felix doesn’t understand. 

Seungmin supplies an answer. “If it’s a dream, I’ll cut off my sleeve so you can keep sleeping. So, would it matter then?” 

Felix knows the answer. No. 

“Come to bed?” 

Felix swallows thickly. Maybe he nods yes. Maybe he abandons the plastic takeout bag on one of the ancient, priceless pieces of furniture, sullying it with grease. But in the mist of the spell that Seungmin casts over him, he cannot be certain. 

“Wait,” Seungmin interjects. “You should get comfortable.” 

The thick feeling of restaurant film is cleansed from his skin in an instant. His skin smells of fragrant soap made from the crushed petals of flowers whose names he does not know. Felix looks down, and finds his own body swathed in red silk. 

When he looks back up, all the books, and notepads, and instruments are cleared away from the bed. “Better?” 

“Yeah.” 

It cannot be more than four, five steps to the bed, but it feels as if Felix traverses miles. 

But that journey is well worth it. Seungmin rises up onto his knees and draws Felix into the bed with him. The kiss that they share is sugar sweet and just as cloying. Seungmin lets Felix kiss him this time. Felix actually kisses him. Not to force a reaction. Not to find proof that he’s real. Just the way that he’s dreamed of kissing someone for a very long time. A soft sigh into Seungmin’s mouth and a slip of his tongue, he’s ready to surrender to whatever power that Seungmin wields over him. 

They break ever so briefly.

Seungmin cups the underside of his chin with the flat of his hand. The large decorative rings that he wears upon his fingers feel cold against Felix’s skin. Seungmin kisses him. Actually kisses him. Not to force a reaction. Not to prove that he’s powerful. Just the way that someone like Seungmin should kiss someone. Firm and soft, weighty iron wrapped in silk. 

Working a hand underneath his loose fitting silk top, Seungmin touches the bare skin of his chest and work the silken top down his shoulders so that it hangs loosely around his elbows. 

“What do you dream about?” 

The visage of Seungmin before him warm and kind disappears, as does the bedroom surrounding them. Soft silk covers his eyes, blinding him completely. But he need not see the fabric to know that it’s bright crimson red in color. 

“The restaurant,” Seungmin responds automatically, “the laundromat.” In some ways, it’s not even worth saying, because Seungmin already knows, “you.” 

Fingers walk the long trail up his clavicle, and his neck, pressing on the fullness of his lower lip. 

“What do you dream about?” Felix accepts the pad of Seungmin’s thumb into his mouth. 

What Seungmin describes next is so starkly different, so pastoral, in comparison to the raw want that he exudes at all times. “Two, or three, or four rabbits in a big green field,” Seungmin responds as if he’d been waiting for this question from the moment they met. “It doesn’t matter, the shape of the clouds in the sky or the flowers in the meadow. What’s important is what isn’t there. No hawks, no dogs, no humans. Just peace.” 

Felix swears that he can feel the warmth of sunshine against his face.

The hem of Seungmin’s sleeve brushes up against his mouth as Seungmin trades his thumb for his index and middle finger. Felix accepts those digits eagerly, taking them deep into his mouth and coating them with saliva. Seungmin responds with those same fingers, spreading them across his tongue, feeling the sharp enamel of his incisors. 

When Seungmin’s exploration of his mouth has ended, Felix encircles them with his lips. Obscene, wet, and tight. He could do this to Seungmin’s cock if he wanted. 

Seungmin removes his fingers from Felix’s mouth. Soft damp presses against his cheek. 

It emboldens Felix. “I wanna show you.” 

“Show me what?” 

“All of my freckles.” 

Nothing happens, there’s no movement, no jostling upon the bed, but Felix knows that he’s naked now. Naked, and pushed down on his back upon the bed. Feverish hot lips dapple his skin in just as many places as he’s freckled, but never, never touching the heaviness between his legs. 

‘So many,” Seungmin’s voice slurs as if he were drunk, and Felix loves the sound. 

“You have one too,” Felix notes. “On your cheek.” 

“I stole it from you,” Seungmin offers this confession, and begs for no forgiveness. Instead, choosing to place another tender-stinging love bite on the secret place inside of his thigh. “When I met you.” 

Felix laugh moans at Seungmin’s comment. 

“I’m serious.” Seungmin’s voice stills. In that moment, the blindfold is maddeningly frustrating. Because he knows that Seungmin, face hovering inches below his stomach, looks at him with an expression that is an impossible mixture of dead serious, faux hurt, and endearing begging. “From the top of your hand to my cheek, because I wanted to see it in the mirror and think of you.” 

More kisses as Seungmin kisses down his stomach, the crest of his hips, and the forbidden silkiness between his thighs. 

Did he? Did Seungmin have that beauty mark on his face the first time that they met? Was he too distracted to notice? Or did it only become known to him later, in the laundromat? “WIll you give it back to me someday?” Although the blindfold prevents him from seeing all of Seungmin, he is also grateful for that silken wall between them. It reflects the heat of his gaze, and it’s harder to worry about what’s happening next when he doesn’t have the slightest idea. 

“Someday,” Seungmin responds. “Until then, you’ll have to settle for this.” Only then does he take Felix’s cock into his mouth. 

_ Finally  _

It’s difficult, impossible really, to not fuck up into Seungmin’s mouth right away. Soft and enveloping, it’s better than his own hand, and anything that he’s ever imagined. Felix threads his fingers into Seungmin’s hair, if only to feel closer to him. Because the hands, strong enough to hold him into place, but gentle enough to not so much as leave a bruise, aren’t enough. Because the adoring mouth upon his cock isn’t enough. Knows that he shouldn’t tug, but he can’t help it. Because each swipe of Seungmin’s tongue, each roll of his own hips feels absolutely maddening as frustration melds with pleasure. 

His cock throbs and pulses in Seungmin’s mouth, but the orgasm never comes as he’s brought to the edge, and held over. Feet dangling into the abyss, but the rest of his body is denied permission to let go. “Seungmin.” Pitiful on his tongue. “Seung--ah”. 

Under the darkened shroud of silk, one sense is dimmed, and the others are enhanced. The sudden, commingled scent of rose petals and bitter herbs is overwhelming. Felix feels every touch as if it were multiplied a thousand fold. It isn’t limited to the feeling of plush lips at the base of his cock, or tongue tracing the ridge at the head. Joining those sensations, is the slippery, vicious feeling of wet against his hole. Teasing press against his perineum, and a lingering caress as Seungmin tests the weight of his ball in the palm of his hand. 

With an obscene squelching sound from Seungmin, and a broken whimper of protest from Felix, Seungmin pulls off his cock with a  _ pop.  _ Cool air contrasts with the damp heat of his saliva covered cock, and the feeling of Seungmin’s hot breath. In sharp contrast to the almost merciless precision that Seungmin manipulates his body, he asks Felix in a voice that’s pleading and almost childish, “Felix, can I?” 

“Yeah.” 

Pressure.  _ Pressure. Pressure _ as Seungmin breaches him with a single digit. The sharp pain that Felix anticipates, knows well from his own attempts in the shower, and late late at night, never comes. It’s strange, because he can feel how tight his body is drawn up around Seungmin’s intrusion. Where pain is expected, there’s only a tingling glow. 

“Relax,” Seungmin coos into the crease of his thigh. “This slick is really good. I use it on myself when I,” Seungmin laughs. “When I receive...And it never hurts.” 

“When you receive?” Felix laughs. What a weird way to phrase it. And then, when the gravity of Seungmin’s statement sets in, as does the image of Seungmin on his back, cheeks flushed. “You do it that way too?” 

“Yeah?” Seungmin scoffs. 

It’s greedy, but he’s desperate, and even though he has no idea the full extent of Seungmin’s power, he knows that he’s being toyed with. Seungmin could be buried deep inside of him right now. Seungmin could’ve wrung two or three orgasms from him right now. “Show me.” 

Seungmin indulges his request. In an instant, they’re transported from the plush bedroom. A dream within in a dream, Felix’s blindfold is removed. They kneel on shining white marble; they are contained in walls of shining white marble. 

It's strange how this place is so devoid of red, the color that he’s come to strongly associate with Seungmin. 

He’s naked, and so is Seungmin. He offers himself to Felix completely, without teasing. kneeling on all fours. What comes next is automatic and implicit. Felix settles between Seungmin’s legs, and watches the tip of his cock disappear into his impossibly tight hole. 

Inch, by slow, torturous inch, Felix moves slow and realizes that Seungmin is right. No pain, no hesitance, just warmth across his face as Felix fucks him. Urgent snapping of his hips, there’s no space for conscientiousness. And all he can do is chase, chase,  _ chase  _ the orgasm that Seungmin won’t let him have. 

“Seungmin,” Felix grunts. It’s crude, but he can’t help it, letting his hand fall heavy on Seungmin’s ass and finding satisfaction in the sharp smacking sound. It rests tingling and hot in the space between his navel and the base of his cock. So ready, but he  _ can’t.  _ “Please. Let me.” 

Seungmin smiles at him cocksure and dangerous over his shoulder. It’s good to see his expression again without obstruction. “No.” 

“Doesn’t it--” This too is new for him. He’s so tight, so tight that fucking into Seungmin is almost painful, but he chases it anyway. Does anything he can to get Seungmin to clench down on him tighter, smacks and bites and rough touches. “Doesn’t it feel good?” Felix rakes his hand across Seungmin’s chest, across those bright red scars, and streaks crimson red across his skin. Felix pulls Seungmin into a kneeling position. Where his chest rested upon cold marble, there’s more red. More blood. 

Even in his dreamlike state, the sight of blood is alarming. 

“Yeah,” Seungmin moans clenching tight around Felix’s cock. “But not like this. Please Felix, not like this.” 

In that moment, it becomes terrifyingly clear to him that this isn’t a fantasy, but a memory. Seungmin makes clear to him why he’s so meticulously tender, almost to the point of being cruel. “No,” but he still fucks into Seungmin with a brutal roughness. “Not like this.” 

As suddenly as the marble room appeared before him, he’s back in Seungmin’s room. Silk tied tight around his eyes. Sheets soft against his skin. 

More pressure deep inside. Seungmin’s worked a second finger inside, and trying to a third. Scissoring him open, molding him into something pliant and shaped complimentary to Seungmin. 

“Seungmin, please,” he just wants to cum. 

“Felix,” Seungmin urges. “Trust me. “

Long fingers press against his prostate and do not relent. Caresses from the inside that have no make his cock pulse against Seungmin’s tongue. It should be enough to make him cum. What Seungmin’s done to him should be enough to make him cum a thousand times over but he can’t, and he doesn’t understand how his cock can feel so hard and so useless at the same time. 

Felix doesn’t even realize that he’s crying until Seungmin calls attention to it. “Felix, oh no. Oh Felix.” Seungmin removes his fingers leaving him empty. 

Fingers reach for the blindfold. 

“Don’t--” He doesn’t want Seungmin to see him this way. 

Even if he made him this way. 

Tears streak his face, dampening silk, making his own lids feel heavy and swollen. Seungmin kisses away the tears that stain his face so softly. 

Felix’s fingers rake up and down his chest in desperation. Checking frantically and fervently for the wet feeling of blood against his skin, but he finds none. 

“I’m so sorry.” 

But if that were true, he wouldn’t leave his cock aching hard between his legs. He wouldn’t tease. He’d let him cum. 

“Please,” but he’s not even certain what he’s asking anymore. “Please.” 

One pair of swollen, kiss bruised lips press against another. Their tongues move thickly, languidly, because as much as they hunger for one another they tire of the pursuit. Seungmin relents, and it only makes the tears well up once more because Felix finally feels at peace. 

The blunt feeling of pressure, and the twitch of Seungmin’s cock inside of him makes him believe resolution is near. 

“How is it?” 

“Different.” 

Seungmin stills, but remains buried deep inside. “Does it hurt?” 

“No. It’s weird.” It’s nothing like he ever imagined. Granted, his imagination worked on the experiences of others. Changbin told him that it took three tries before he could take Chan’s cock. Hyunjin told him that Jisung got a UTI after the first time they fucked. 

“Do you want it to?” 

Felix’s expression pulls into a frown. Not just his brows that Seungmin cannot see, or his mouth, but with his whole body that draws up tight. He wants normal...As normal as he can get when he’s with Seungmin. He’s reminded of blood. Seungmin bled for him. “A little.” 

“Felix,” Seungmin sighs. Lifts him up ever so slightly by the small of his back and lets him fall back down on his cock. 

Felix wish is granted. The liquid viscosity between them evaporates, leaving an addictive stinging sensation there between them. 

Like when Seungmin pulls on the roots of his hair. 

Like when his lips are over kissed. 

A broken whimper interrupts a sharp and desperate sound. Felix to Seungmin. 

Soft kisses tickle the arch of his foot as Seungmin holds his legs parallel against his chest and tries to soothe him. Seungmin to Felix. He tries to soothe him as he fucks into him in slow shallow circles. “Felix--” Ragged and desperate like he needs this too. “Oh-wow. Felix.” And in those moments Seungmin comes across as so very, impossibly human. “Wanna--Can I?” 

“Ah-” He wanted this. Not just Seungmin, but the discomfort, and the impossible requests that he makes. “Can you?” 

“Go faster.” 

“Please.” Even though the sting hasn’t faded away yet completely. 

Seungmin does, snapping his hips at a demanding pace. Hitting that spot deep inside of him every time. Brutally, relentlessly. “Felix, you’re so beautiful. So tight, made for me.” And even though Seungmin’s voice is silken smooth like the fabric they fuck on, Felix can hear the warbled cracks. He can sense the desperation, and he likes knowing that they’re on equal footing, equal wanting. 

Their lips find each other again. Seungmin’s forehead slides against red silk. 

Felix is close. 

And in that moment, a new fear and desperation settles in. He has to see Seungmin when it happens. Has to bask in the warmth of his smile. So he tugs at the silken blindfold, and opens his eyes to find himself transported once more. 

Another dream within a dream. 

Their positions are inexplicably swapped. Seungmin lies on his back still buried inside of Felix. His expression is that of warmth and sweet honey. With trembling thighs Felix rides him. Each upward cant of his hips feels like a dare, and Seungmin calls him on it every time, rocking back up into Felix and pulling his hips downward. Felix braces himself by splaying his hands upon Seungmin’s chest, and he touches nothing but smooth flawless skin. 

The purposeful, bright red scars are gone. 

The sheets are no longer crimson red silk, but scratchy, low thread count cotton dyed burgundy. 

The ornate furniture is gone. Now they fuck in the kind of bedroom that’s typical for a twenty year old boy. The headboard of Seungmin’s bed doubles as a bookshelf. Felix stares down crinkled copies of  _ Lord of the Rings  _ and  _ Catcher  _ and  _ Hitchhiker's Guide.  _ Little knick knacks line the shelves too: a Rubik's cube, a single sand dollar, bottle of lubricant, a box of condoms, and a red stuffed rabbit. 

Here, Seungmin is no longer a creature, ethereal and exotic. Just painfully human. It’s only then that Felix realizes...This is Seungmin’s fantasy. 

This is what Seungmin wants for himself. 

Seungmin’s hand wraps firm around his cock. For a moment, all Felix can do is watch dumbstruck as Seungmin’s long elegant hand fists his small, sensitive cock. Head disappearing and reappearing over his foreskin with each thrust. 

These combined sensations of Seungmin’s cock inside of him, and his hand wrapped around him, draw out two sensations within him. One is urgent and volatile, the other is languid but powerful. Both, are equally terrifying and equally chased. 

“Seungmin ‘m close,” and he hopes, so badly that Seungmin will let him cum this time. 

Seungmin stares up at him with wide, doe-like eyes. “Me too.” 

Slow burn from the inside, and sudden burst on the outside, he feels the orgasm through his arched back, and his curled toes, his furtively clenched hands, and halfmoon indentations he claws into Seungmin’s chest. 

And it’s all accentuated by the feeling of Seungmin’s cock pulsating deep inside of him. 

Seungmin stays buried deep inside of him for longer than comfortable, whispering how good that he felt, and how pretty Felix is. It’s only when they separate finally, when Seungmin leaves to get them something to clean off with, does Felix notice the unfurled red ribbon on the mattress. It’s crushed and wrinkled from abuse. 

Seungmin cleans him, and crawls into bed beside him, pulling him onto his chest. Kissing the crown of the head, and petting him tenderly, he asks Felix, “what’s wrong?” As if he knows before Felix himself knows that the malcontent has settled in. 

“Tired,” Felix responds simply. 

“Sleep then.” 

“Don’t want to,” Felix admits. “If I sleep, I’ll have to wake up.” Implicitly, he confesses to Seungmin that he’s afraid of losing him once more. 

“Felix, am I real to you?” His voice trembles, as if he’s afraid. He pulls Felix closer to his chest, as if he does not want him to see his expression. 

Felix pulls away from Seungmin. Crimson ribbon slides through his fingers. He examines the fading scar on his hand from where he cut himself. “Yeah. You’re real to me.” 

“Then I’ll cut off my sleeve and let you keep dreaming.” 

* * *

People might describe themselves as a “morning person” or a “night person.” Felix doesn’t know if he’s either really. He likes to sleep in, but he’s not opposed to waking up early if it means getting a really good breakfast. He’ll stay out late dancing, unless there’s a good reason to go to bed at ten. But Felix can say with some certainty that he’s not a 3:15 pm person. 

Really, 3:15 is the worst. 

The lunch rush is over, and he’s usually gotten his afternoon chores done too. Not even the oldsters have started filing in for dinner yet. 

Felix absentmindedly tucks his hand down the collar of his work uniform. His fingers graze against the raised, irritated patch of skin on his chest. The intricate scars on his skin there, he knows they won’t heal. 

With his other hand, he holds a crinkled paperback. He plucked it from Changbin’s bookshelf, but it isn’t very interesting. In fact, the only reason he sticks with it is because the text is only  _ slightly  _ less boring than 3:15. 

“I’m going on break!” He calls out to no one in particular. 

There’s a pastry shop down the street that just opened up, and it’s been awhile since he’s had something that  _ wasn’t  _ on the restaurant menu. 

The bell to the door rings, announcing his entry. Felix, too busy looking at the glass case filled to the brim with cannolis, croissants, and danishes ignores the obvious signs of the bakery around him. Red and white checkerboard tiles dot the floor. There’s a red neon sign advertising strawberry malts on the wall. 

Instead, he narrows in on a cherry danish. Only then does he look upward to place his order. 

That’s when he sees him. 

Felix’s heart skips a beat. 

He hasn’t seen that face, even in his dreams, for weeks. 

But it is. Seungmin stands across the counter from him dressed in a burgundy barista uniform. For some reason, that seems more eccentric than red silk or red fox fur. Normal...In an incredible kind of way. 

“What can I get you?” Seungmin beams at him with that certain mixture of warmth and charm that’s made Felix melt dozens of times.

“Uh,” Forget being called up to the front of the class to solve a problem on the board, this is the hardest question Felix will ever have to answer. “That one looks good.” Felix selects a cherry danish. 

“Sure.” 

Seungmin wraps it in wax paper, and makes no mention of payment. 

Felix could just walk out of the door now and go back to reality. Go back to 3:15. Instead, he takes a tentative bite of his pastry. Sugar red glosses his lips, and laps it away with his tongue. “I haven’t seen you in awhile.” 

“I’ve been um...Busy?” Seungmin says it like it’s a question. The answer lies in whether or not Felix believes him. Seungmin then opts to fill in the awkward silence between them by taking a voracious bite of a chocolate croissant. “Listen, there have been a lot of boys going through their homosexual awakening lately.” 

“Seriously?” 

“I’m trying Felix,” Seungmin assures him. “I have been the god of forbidden love for like,” Seungmin checks the rose gold watch strapped to his wrist. “Six hundred years.” 

“Uh-huh.” But it’s hard to feign anger at Seungmin.

“I’m still getting used to sticking around.” 

“Listen, all of this is great. Really.” Felix waves his hand dismissively at the cafe. “And it was super cool like...the first few times, but--” Felix fidgets with his keys as he speaks. One part habit, and one part intention. He has a spare key to his apartment on his key ring. 

“I can’t go back to this. I know what I saw. I know the last time you held me, you showed me what you wanted. I know you don’t show that to just anyone.” He’s been meaning to give the spare key to Chan or Hyunjin for when he inevitably gets locked out and needs rescuing. He rotates the key on the ring, extracting it from the rest of his keys. "Maybe it's your turn to dream." 

"What?"

“My bedspread is blue. I don’t have very many books. Just the ones I borrow from friends. I can’t solve a Rubik's cube, but I have a GameCube, and I have my stuffed lion from when I was a kid. It’s nice. Normal. I have to go back to work because I’m closing tonight. You can come over later. I mean, if you want.” 

Felix hands Seungmin the spare key over the counter. 

Attached to that thin silver key is the lucky red rabbit’s foot that Hyunjin gave him. It’s an icon of Felix, the God of the Mundane. Because just like himself, just like Hyunjin, Seungmin is looking for answers in a world that doesn’t seem to have them. 

Seungmin accepts. “Sure.” 


End file.
